


abet

by armethaumaturgy



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing Kink, Fluff and Smut, Gentle Sex, Hair-pulling, M/M, Oohlala, mikleo in a maid outfit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-15 06:23:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11225151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/pseuds/armethaumaturgy
Summary: There’s a moment of silence when Sorey turns to look at him, and then…“Wow,” is all he can utter. His eyes rake Mikleo’s body up and down and then back up. Mikleo shifts, squeezing the soft fabric in his hands again. He’s red up to his ears and he can’t look Sorey in the eyes. “You look stunning, Mikleo,” Sorey says, only causing Mikleo to flush harder, if that’s even physically possible at this point.





	abet

**Author's Note:**

> sorey gets mikleo a maid outfit. i dont know what to tell you✌

He’s embarrassed, feeling all the blood that had rushed up to his face, but he’d already been cooped up inside the bathroom for too long, and the fact that Sorey is still silent while waiting doesn’t really say much more about his patience than his determination to go along with this. Really. Mikleo is only doing this because it’s him. He’d’ve declined without a second thought if it were anybody else.

Then again, there never _would_ be anyone else.

Mikleo grips onto the hem of his outfit, adjusting it. “I’m ready,” he calls out, opening the door and stepping out.

There’s a moment of silence when Sorey turns to look at him, and then…

“Wow,” is all he can utter.

His eyes rake Mikleo’s body up and down and then back up. Mikleo shifts, squeezing the soft fabric in his hands again. He’s red up to his ears and he can’t look Sorey in the eyes.

“You look stunning, Mikleo,” Sorey says, only causing Mikleo to flush harder, if that’s even physically possible at this point.

Sorey keeps standing there as if rooted in place. And, admittedly, he is. The black dress hugs Mikleo’s body snugly, stretched across his chest a little. The white apron is tied around his hips, the satin ribbon accentuating them. Sorey can’t pull his gaze away, each detail of the dress mesmerizing him all over again; the thin straps over Mikleo’s shoulders, lemmed with white lace, the useless but very pretty lacing underneath his chest,the black thighhighs hugging Mikleo’s legs, even the headband with lace sat upon the Seraph’s head.

The black fabric contrasts so well with Mikleo’s alabaster skin, making it seem even milkier and softer, somehow.

“You okay with this?” Sorey asks, snapping himself out of his trance. He doesn’t want to make Mikleo anymore uncomfortable, if he can help it.

Mikleo huffs, folding his arms over his chest, hiding the lacing in the process. The position does show off the lean muscles in his upper arms, underneath the twin lace armbands. “I wouldn’t have put it on if I wasn’t,” he says, but it makes him happy that Sorey would ask again.

“Just making sure,” Sorey nods, “Feel free to say stop anytime, as usual.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ll be doing anything too different, right?” Mikleo says. brushing his fringe out of his eyes. Sorey notes that he’d kept his circlet on. For some reason, that makes this even better. “We’ll just fuck while I wear this.”

And Mikleo saying it out loud, so bluntly, is _even_ better.

Sorey would feel a little ashamed at the fact that he’s starting to get hard inside his slacks, except he doesn’t. He can see the outline of Mikleo’s cock under the skirt and apron too, and it’s starting to strain the fabric.

Sorey steps closer, places his hands onto Mikleo’s hips and leans in to kiss him. The fabric feels different than it did when he’d bought it — and the embarrassment of doing so is now absolutely worth it.

He guiders them backwards, lips still connected, even as they turn and Sorey pushes Mikleo onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath their combined weight.

Their kisses are no more than a mesh of tongue and saliva spilling down their chins now, but neither of them minds as they take the time to taste each other, remapping the well-known nooks and crannies of each other’s mouths all over again.

Sorey’s hands creep down to Mikleo’s legs, spread wide apart as he settles in between them. The thighhighs hug Mikleo’s legs, pulling the muscles which spill over the tight tops just the slightest bit. Sorey can’t help but pull one leg up over his shoulder, pressing a line of kisses from the knee up to the thigh, biting just above where the sock ends. It pulls a delicious moan from Mikleo, who’s looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes, eyelashes fluttering with each inch he gets closer to where Mikleo wants him.

Sorey pushes the skirt up, bunching it over the other’s stomach and then stops in his tracks, breath stuttering over Mikleo’s thigh.

“You put on the panties, too?” he breathes out, incredulous.

Mikleo squirms, burying his face into the pillow. “Well, you gave them to me too, so…” He doesn’t finish his explanation, doesn’t need to.

Sorey’s heart hammers in his throat already. He can see exactly how excited Mikleo is, his cock tenting the thin black lace of the panties.

The tip peeks over them, right above the tiny ribbon bow. It must be uncomfortable over the heated organ, so Sorey takes pity and slips his thumbs underneath the panties. Mikleo whines quietly as the material is pulled down, his cock, already beading with precum, springing free, bobbing against the Seraph’s stomach.

Sorey keeps placing kisses along one milky thigh, marking a line upwards. He settles down onto his stomach, moving Mikleo’s legs to both rest over his shoulders. Mikleo looks down at him, hiding the blooming flush of his cheeks with one hand. His hair is splayed around him wildly, almost fading in with the white lace of the dress.

There, looking at his lover’s and best friend’s rising and falling chest, Sorey thinks he could stay for an eternity.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers huskily, leaning over the other’s arousal.

He can feel the tremor that runs through Mikleo, his cock twitching cutely. Even his cheeks darken in color. “Are you sure you don’t just love the outfit?” he huffs out, but his attempt at sounding skeptical is ruined by his breath hitching.

“Do you really think after all this time, I’d like some clothes more than any water angel?” Sorey chuckles, his breath fanning over Mikleo’s heated skin.

“But you do like the clothes.”

“Only on you.”

Mikleo snorts. “Fair enough.”

Matter settled, Sorey decides to indulge the other, finally leaning in and licking a stripe over the swollen length. A noise gets stuck in Mikleo’s throat; his hips shake with the effort to keep them still.

Sorey places his hands onto the them, thumbs rubbing over the protruding hipbones while he licks up and down, flattening his tongue across the head as he laps up the droplets of precum that keep oozing out.

Mikleo’s toes curl when he feels Sorey’s hot mouth enveloping the head, further wetting it with his saliva. He shifts on the mattress and the skirt falls down from being bunched over his stomach.

It falls over Sorey’s head and the human laughs, pulling away and from underneath the soft fabric, “Why’d you turn out the lights?” he jests, eyes crinkled from the wide smile playing across his lips.

“The ‘lights’ are your fault in the first place,” Mikleo retorts, voice a little hoarse. He feels warm all over and though he wouldn’t dream of saying it out loud, he’s a little glad to have a momentary reprieve from the heat of Sorey’s mouth. It’d only been a little while and he’d already been getting a little too heated.

“Okay, you’re right. Can you hold the skirt up, please? I like seeing when I suck you off.”

The way Sorey says it — so nonchalantly — has Mikleo’s stomach doing an excited (and embarrassed) flip, but he obeys, pulling the skirt back up. His fingers fist into the fabric, bunching it between them.

“This okay?” he asks, peering down over the expanse of lace and ribbons on his chest at Sorey, who gives him a toothy grin.

“Yup! Perfect!”

Mikleo doesn’t have enough time to comment on the other’s cheerful tone, because Sorey leans back in, engulfing the leaking head of Mikleo’s cock between his lips. Mikleo moans, head lolling backwards as his eyes fall shut, pleasure rushing up his spine.

Sorey is very skilled with his mouth, and Mikleo can never hold back his noises; this time is no different. When Sorey rubs his tongue over the underside of his cock as he bobs up and down, sucking whenever he’s only got the tip in, moans pour unbidden from Mikleo’s kiss-swollen lips.

Mikleo is putty beneath him, arching off the mattress and only not thrusting into that warm, welcoming mouth thanks to Sorey’s hands holding down his hips. He lets go of the skirt when he moves his hands down to Sorey’s head, curling his fingers in the soft brown hair. He catches the fabric again before it can get into Sorey’s way.

Instead of trying to hold it up this time, he brings it up to his face and bites down at the hem of the skirt, leaving his hands free to grip onto Sorey’s head, careful not to actually yank and hurt the boy.

Heat pools in the pit of his stomach and he whines, nothing more than a muffled groan making it past the fabric between his teeth. It doesn’t take too long for Sorey to get him back to the brink, and even though he can’t warn Sorey with his mouth full, he still knows he’s close, probably from the way his thighs tremble around his head, ankles locking and toes curling whenever an electrical flash of pleasure runs down the length of his spine.

Sorey doesn’t pull away, even when Mikleo pulls at his hair to make him, and instead sucks extra hard on the tip.

Mikleo’s body seizes up, back taunt as a bow. His mouth opens in a loud cry of Sorey’s name as he releases, the fabric slipping back down, now sporting a dark patch from his saliva.

Sorey only pulls away when he’s sure Mikleo is spent, swallowing the cum in his mouth before sitting up, licking his lips with a self-satisfied look, eyes rowing Mikleo’s body.

The Seraph is sprawled across the bed, hair and outfit in disarray, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. But even that has nothing on the debauched looks on his face;  half-lidded, misty eyes, flush reaching up to his ears and down to his chest, and his lips puffy and parted to allow him to pant.

Sorey admires his lover while he comes down from his high; all of Mikleo’s nerves are alight and he’s spent and sated. But Sorey absolutely isn’t prepared for the first words to leave Mikleo’s lips when he gets his senses back.

“I thought maids were supposed to serve, not the other way around?”

It’s breathless, and the smile that accompanies it is a little wobbly, but no less cheeky than usual. It sends a rush of heat to Sorey’s crotch, as effective as any touch would’ve been.

“Well, I didn’t want to push you,” Sorey says softly, genuinely. “You already agreed to the outfit and I— I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Sorey moves up to hover over him, thumb brushing along the contour of Mikleo’s reddened cheek, but Mikleo merely scoffs.

“Why would it be any different just because I’m wearing an obscene amount of lace?” the Seraph questions. “Seriously though, this is more lace than I’ve ever seen on a dress before. But I do have to admit I kind of like it,” he adds as an afterthought.

Sorey grins at him before leaning down to press their lips together. Mikleo can taste himself on his lips.

“I don’t want you to think I’m treating you any lesser, you know?” Sorey whispers to him; the nervousness is apparent in his voice and Mikleo feels the urge to start laughing.

That’s absurd.

“I don’t think you even know how to do that,” he says, in all seriousness.

Not once had Sorey treated him any less than an equal — quite the opposite, actually. And Mikleo would be very much lying if he said he didn’t enjoy all the other’s attention and lavishing.

Mikleo’s hands come up to Sorey’s shoulders and push. “Alright, sit up on the edge,” he instructs, slipping off of the bed and onto his knees. The thighhighs soften the impact and he finds a comfortable spot.

Well, comfortable for now.

“What are you doing?” Sorey questions, but he lets Mikleo pull him forward. The Seraph looks up, blinking at him through his thick lashes. The headband is a little askew, sitting on Mikleo’s disheveled hair, and somehow it all only adds to how pretty he is to Sorey.

“You can see me better like this,” Mikleo says matter-of-factly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. His deft fingers waste no time in unlacing Sorey’s slacks and pulling them off, unsuccessfully trying to hide how excited he is.

The pants, along with Sorey’s undergarments, end up in a heap to the side. Sorey is almost painfully hard, foregoing himself while he’d focuded on Mikleo’s pleasure instead, and when the other nuzzles his cheek against the flesh, he can’t help but shudder, jaw going slack so he can let out small panting noises.

Thankfully, Mikleo doesn’t tease him, opening his mouth wide and engulfing the swollen head. He sucks, tongue running over the underside of the crown, just where he knows Sorey loves it. The taste of salt blooms on his tongue and he swipes across the beads of precum oozing out, lapping it up with kittenish licks, He even wiggles his tongue into the slit for good measure. Drool drips down from the corners of his lips as he lets it pool in his mouth, wetting the cock so it’s easier when he slides down, taking more and more of Sorey with each bob.

Moans from above let him knows he’s doing a good job — as does the copious amount of precum flooding his taste buds — but Sorey twists his hands into the covers, knuckles turning white where they grip onto the edge of the mattress.

Mikleo pulls off with a _pop_ that sounds obscene even to himself, and he sneaks a hands beneath one of Sorey’s, pulling the grip open. It also forces Sorey’s eyes open from where they’d fallen shut during Mikleo’s ministrations.

“You know,” Mikleo drawls, using his free hands to pull his hair back over his shoulder. “Wearing a dress doesn’t stop me from liking it when you pull on my hair.”

“Ah—” Sorey opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Right.”

Mikleo flashes him a toothy grin before going back down, swirling his tongue around the head before taking it all in, hands wrapping around what he can’t fit. In a moment, Sorey’s hand lands on his head, petting it.

Mikleo can’t help a rumbly moan, eyes falling shut on their own accord when the fingers tighten, actually gripping onto the locks. Everything but his needs to please Sorey and the pleasant, soft tugging on his hair fades to the back of his mind and he redoubles his efforts, speeding up as much as his gag reflex allows him.

Sorey’s moans get louder and more frequent, and Mikleo mirrors the other’s actions from before, refusing to pull away even as Sorey’s hips stutter to meet his pace. Mikleo hollows his cheeks, sucking harshly and Sorey’s grip on his hair tightens almost painfully.

He wills himself to go slack, swallowing as ropes of cum shoot into his awaiting mouth.

Sorey clenches and unclenches his fingers a few times and then lets go fully. Mikleo pulls off with a deep sigh, wiping the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“Gods, you have no idea how pretty you were like that,” Sorey praises, still catching his breath, His whole body shakes from head to toe from the force of his orgasm.

“Were?” Mikleo echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m still here. Speaking of, help me up, my legs ache.”

Sorey stretches out a hand and Mikleo takes it, standing up with a small wince. His left leg might’ve fallen asleep.

“You’re amazing,” Sorey says, pulling him into a kiss and he momentarily forgets about the pain. “Thank you.”

Mikleo laughs. “Don’t thank me, it was fun, But I think the dress needs washing, or else it’ll smell of sweat next time.”

“Yeah, let me help you with the lacing,” Sorey offers.

He misses both the implication that there’d be another time, as well as Mikleo’s sly grin.


End file.
